


Slipknot Shorts

by Lt_BC



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Affection, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bacon, Baking, Beard Braiding, Beer Drinking, Bigotry & Prejudice, Biting, Blow Jobs, Breakfast, Cats, Cigarettes, Comfort, Confusion, Drinking, Drugs, Fluff, Friendship, Gifts, Hair Braiding, Hair Dyeing, Hangover, Heartwarming, Hugs, JIM IS STILL TRAUMATIZED BY EGGS, M/M, Mornings, Nicknames, Overstimulation, Pain, Paulie being a sunflower, Praise Kink, Revenge, Self-Harm, Smut, Thighs, Violence, assault with kitchen ware, bad trip, cute shit, let joey say the fuck word, lol more sad shit in chap 11, sid is a gremlin, sid is still being a goblin, sidney is a goodboy, soft, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_BC/pseuds/Lt_BC
Summary: Just some Slipknot Stories, obviously none of them are real, just things my sick little brain came up with.So Far we have:Chapter One: After PartyChapter Two: The Boys Get Their Hair BraidedChapter Three: HugsChapter Four: Sid is HurtingChapter Five: Joey Ain't Gonna Take it[Explicit] Chapter Six: Jay and CoreyChapter Seven: Good Ole Paulie [Part One]Chapter Eight: Good Ole Paulie [Part Two]Chapter Nine: Mornings - Mick and Joey[Explicit] Chapter Ten: Thighs - Sid and ChrisChapter Eleven: Good Ole Paulie [Part Three][Explicit]  Chapter Twelve: Good Boy- Sid and CoreyChapter Thirteen: Congrats and a CakeChapter Fourteen: PancakesChapter Fifteen: Movie Night on the BusChapter Sixteen: Spilled BeerSuggestions Welcome!
Relationships: Chris Fehn/Sid Wilson, Corey Taylor/Jay Weinberg, Corey Taylor/Sid Wilson
Comments: 107
Kudos: 70





	1. After Party

Mick was not a party person. Sure he would light up a cigarette, crack open a beer and watch his bandmates party themselves into the ground. But he would always either go home early or help one of his misguided bandmates stumble back to another grimmy hotel, so they wouldn’t end up sleeping in an alley somewhere covered in vomit and piss that probably wasn't just their own. 

It was one of those nights where Mick had escaped back to the hotel early. Spending his few precious hours alone watching low-quality documentaries on the hotel television and relishing the quiet he would rarely get around his bandmates. Mick had been in one of the two beds in the hotel room, when he heard the telltale noise coming toward his door, signaling his bandmates return. Mick wasn’t sure who would be rooming with him tonight, but with his luck, it would be either Corey or Sid. 

Speak of the Devil. A fair bit of mumbled cursing followed the haphazard jiggling of a hotel lock occurred, before the door swung open to reveal a very tipsy and very disheveled Sid Wilson. Mick could smell the alcohol rolling off his bandmate in waves, and not to speak of other drugs most likely nesting themselves in the man’s system. Mick sighed. The hotel room’s door was pushed shut, and the new arrival shuffled his way further inside the room. 

_ “Hiiyya Mickkkyy!!” _ , Sid slurred his words while greeting the other man, his body leaned against a wall. Mick let out a mix of what sounded like a growl and a greeting. He was clearly unhappy about his peace and quiet being disturbed. Though Sid, the little devil, didn't seem to notice, his unfocused eyes fixing themselves on Mick. 

Sid seemed a little off. His typical demeanor after a night of drinking was much more energetic and manic then the man stood hunched in the entrance of the hotel room. Sid’s hair fell in his face, bright red strands hiding one of his eyes. 

_ “I’ll, uhh, try not to, bottther you, M-mickky.” _ Sid was definitely off tonight. Sid turned, if not a bit ungracefully, and made his way into the bathroom. Mick was a small bit unnerved by the interaction, the DJ not bouncing off the walls, and on top of that looking as if he was about to cry, was something Mick never thought he would experience. It made something deep in his gut twist, the deep feeling of wrongness worming its way into his brain. 

Mick, who had sat up, and positioned himself with his legs off the bed, as if he was debating getting up to go check in the Dj, heard quite a chorus of noises coming from the bathroom. In his dazed state of mind, Sid had neglected to shut the door all the way. Following some of the little sobs and gasps that escaped. Mick's shoulders stiffened. Was Sid . . . crying? Now with a small twitch of worry in his step, Mick made his way over to the slightly open bathroom door, peering inside. Sitting wedged in the corner between the tub and wall was Sid. One leg curled up to his chest. Arms were wrapped around himself, a hand clawing at his scalp. His whole body was wracked with sobs and his breath stuttered. Mick could tell he was making a concerted, though ineffective, effort to stay quiet. Mick pushed the door open a bit more, though Sid didn’t seem to notice. The DJ’s cries had become louder now. His fingers pulling at his dyed red hair. 

_ “. . . Sidney?” _

Sid’s head flew up so fast Mick was afraid he had snapped his own neck. Sid’s cheeks were tear-stained and his eyes were puffy and red. Chin slimy with a fair amount of his own drool. Mick was only a few feet from him now, crouching so he was at eye level with the sniveling man. Sid shrunk back further into the corner, shoulder wedged at an uncomfortable angle, pulling both of his legs up to his chest. Mick let out a long sigh. Sid’s face was buried into his knees, quick eyes darting around like a frightened animal ready to bolt. 

_ “What’s wrong, Sid?” _ Sid’s shoulders shook at Mick’s rumbling voice. Sid mumbled something incoherent, hands gripping tight around himself. 

_ “B-badd, tri-pp,” _ Sid’s voice stuttered out while Mick studied him. The Dj’s words confirmed that the smaller man had ingested more than copious amounts of alcohol that night. Mick huffed, running a hand through his own hair. Mick, now sitting on the bathroom floor leaning against the sink cabinets, gestured for Sid. Sid, who was still curled in a tight ball, didn’t move. 

_ “Come here, Sidney.” _ Mick debated dragging the smaller man over to him but figured that wouldn’t help either of them. The smaller of the two look apprehensive but untangled himself from the corner to make his way over to Mick. He looked a bit like a kicked puppy. As Sid got closer to him, Mick could now see that his eyes were not only red from crying but his pupils were blown way out of proportion, and mismatched to boot. Sid curled up to Mick's side, resting his head on Mick’s thigh. Mick let a heavy hand fall onto the still shaking man’s shoulder. Sid flinched at the touch, before settling into it. Mick drew little circles on the smaller man’s shoulders in an effort to calm him. He didn’t know if the drugs in the man’s system would let him sleep, but he still could try and make him relax. Sid's fingers played with the fabric of Mick’s pant leg, even when tripping off his ass, the hyperactive gremlin couldn’t stay still. The shaking in his shoulders seemed to lessen as he relaxed against Mick. Chest no longer heaving. 

_ “Relax, Sid. I’ll keep you safe.” _ Mick squeezed his shoulder to emphasize his words, though much more gently than he would have in a normal scenario. Sid let out a muffled noise, sounding something like a “thank you”. Letting himself press further into Mick’s side. Mick leaned his head back against the cabinets. His back was gonna kill him tomorrow. 


	2. Braiding Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys get their hair braided, little feel-good story. I don't know much about braiding, I just wanted to write something sweet.

“No.”  
“Pleeeease.”  
“No!”  
“Pleeeeeeaasseee!”  
Chris huffed, coursing his arms. Sid was currently doing his best to look like a pleading kitten and failing miserably.  
“I’m not getting my hair braided!” Chris squawked as Sid tried to drag him over to one of the couches. Sid had already had his turn sat in the improvised barbershop, Bright red-dyed hair braided down his skull, with a surprising level of quality. It was something the DJ could actually quell his hyperactivity to sit through.  
“Oh, C’mon Chris! Don’t be a bitch!” Corey shouted, getting an evil eye from Chris in return, which Corey laughed at. His hair was already half done up, the wild colorful strands fixed in a french braid style. Paul, who was in charge of Corey's locks of hair, slapped the other man on the shoulder.  
“Stop moving.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Paulie.” Corey resigned himself back to his previous position, sitting on the floor with Paul sitting on the couch behind him. Paul smiled, as he continued his task of handling the multi-colored curls.  
Chris had finally stopped fighting Sid when he spied both Mick and Shawn giving him evil stares. Both clearly communicating that he’d better sit down and deal with it or he would have to endure with some violent encouragement on both their parts. Shawn’s hair was hanging down, mostly loose, save for a few braids of various sizes woven in. Mick’s hair was much the same as it always was so far, Joey saying he would do Mick’s hair next after he got done with Jim’s. Of course, Chris didn’t doubt that either man would beat him into the ground, braids or not.  
“It looks great, Thanks, Joey!” Jim rose to his feet, patting Joey on the head, who scowled at the gesture. But nodded at the praise. Joey was the one who first suggested braiding his bandmates' hair, Paul soon piping up that he could braid as well, and so they both got to work. Joey’s hair, which he did himself sometime that morning, was done up in some fancy elaborate fashion that none of the other guys understood, though they admired his skills none the less. Craig was the first, quietly sitting reading some band magazine while Paul braided part of his beard, giving Paul a smile when the other man had finished, before returning his attention to his magazine. Jim’s hair had been treated to a dozen or so randomly placed small braids, a few sparkly strands of plastic had been woven in, though where Joey had acquired such things was anyone's guess.  
“Mick!” Joey yelled at the large man, who was still giving a death stare to Chris who had been forced to sit near Paul until the man had finished his work on Corey. Joey waved his hands at the guitarist, beckoning him over. Dragging himself over to the drummer, Mick crossed his arms, looking slightly uncomfortable, especially after Joey summoned a bright pink plastic flower out of nowhere and stuck it behind one of Mick’s ears. Mick earned himself a slap on the wrist from Joey when the large man reached up to take the flower from in position. Grumbling as he simply recrossed his arms and waited for his smaller bandmate to finish his work.  
Corey jumped up from his seat on the floor, once Paul had finished his work. The singer did his best to see his own hair but twisting his head around like an overexcited dog, which earned a few laughs from around the room. Corey snarling at them, still doing his best to see his multicolored mane.  
“Go, heh, see in the mirror!” Paul managed to get out in between chuckles, all of them watching Corey’s eye’s light up before sprinting out of the room. Paul had gotten on to Chris now, who was still grumbling about how he ‘didn’t wanna have to deal with this’. Sid had jumped up on the couch next to Paul, watching Paul’s work. The other man doing his best to try and explain the process to the hyperactive gremlin. A muffled yell from somewhere of, “IT LOOKS GREAT PAULIE!”, Prompted another round of laughter from the band, even Chris who still looked grumpy, but less so now laughed. And, miraculously, even a small chuckle from Craig who still had his nose buried in his magazine. Corey had clearly found a mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions welcome =]


	3. Hugs from Sidney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugs Before Shows!

They all had their little thing they did before shows. Little good luck rituals. Some were as simple as reciting a few words or a lucky pair of socks. However, before every show, there was one ritual they were all forced to participate in whether they liked it or not. At first, a few of them tried to avoid it, hiding in some green room and carefully tip-toeing their way to the backstage right at the curtain call, but then a muffled scream would signal an incoming assault from above, behind, or, much to everyone 's surprise, below. Sid ‘Rat’ Wilson would tackle whoever or whatever tried to avoid him, wrapping his arms and sometimes legs around the offending person, clinging to them in a vice hold of a hug. Even Mick would have a hard time getting the little devil off him when Sid was feeling especially affectionate. After moments of cursing and struggles, Sid would finally let go, giggling and skipping off to find his next victim before the show began. 

Paul would almost never see Sid coming, the smaller man would run up behind him, wrap his wiry arms around the man, and squeeze. Once Paul realized who was clinging to him, he would chuckle, try his best to hug the man back before he sprinted away to his next target. On occasion, Paul would be the one to get the jump on Sid, locking him in a bearhug and lifting the little devil off the ground. Sid would squeal happily and twist around to return the favor. 

Jim would be outside lighting up a cigarette before the show, or tuning his instrument when Sid attacked. The tall man had fallen over multiple times from Sid jumping up to sling his arms around his neck, giving a suffocating squeeze, even if they both ended up on the ground. Much the same scenario would play out with Chris, Sid tackling the grumpy man and knocking the air out of both of them. Chris had escaped once or twice, sprinting away from the wirey DJ, only to be knocked to the floor again. 

If there was anyone good at hiding away, it was Craig. The silent man simply disappeared before shows, no one was quite sure where he went or what he did, and he liked it that way. But, no matter what Craig was doing, he would always find time to throw an arm around Sid. Both of them shared a brief hug which seemed to satisfy Sid. Both of them had to be careful of the many nails protruding from his mask, Sid had nearly impaled himself a few too many times.

Whenever Sid found Joey before the shows, he had a very particular strategy. Said plan was thought up so that he wouldn’t earn more bruises from either having drumsticks thrown at high velocity directly at his cranium or hit with them repeatedly while embracing the small drummer. Pinning the small drummer's arms to his sides in an embrace didn’t stop the small fiery man’s complaints or hurled insults but it did stop the physical assaults. The few times others had witnessed the interaction between the two, they had cackled which left Joey’s face bright red and Sid grinning like a madman before scampering away. 

At the beginning of nearly every show, Corey would be found in some dressing room practicing his vocal performance. If Sid didn’t catch him backstage preparing, or in the green room with the others, he would come knocking. Sticking his head in the private room. Often covering his eyes and calling out to ask if Corey was dressed, though he was still peeking through his fingers when he heard the singer laugh and beacon him in. _“Oh, Come’re Sidney!”_ The overzealous man rushing forward and clinging to the singer’s waist. Corey patted the little devil on the head, ruffling his hair. And as quick as he entered, the hyperactive man rushed out, yelling ‘good luck, Cor!’ or something similar. 

Mick wasn’t one for public affection, even between friends, so if Sid managed to catch the man in a hug in public, Sid knew to keep in short, unless he wanted to be thrown off again and end up with a very bruised arm. Mick had apologized for it, in private of course. But nonetheless had apologized. In private Mick was slightly more affectionate to his friends, depending on his mood even hugging the DJ back. Sid would always bounce away with a little extra enthusiasm in his step on those days. 

And lastly, the clown himself, Shawn. The old man gladly accepting hugs from his hyperactive bandmate. The older of the two giving Sid a reassuring pat on the back before every show. Though once they got on stage they were likely to fight each other and attempt to light themselves and the other on fire. Heck, once Sid had given Shawn a hug on stage while lit ablaze, setting the clown on fire as well. Both had howled about it afterward, bearing a few more burn marks then they did before. 

But no matter what, there was a day every single one of them, no matter how grumpy or unaffectionate, got together. On Sid’s birthday, which sometimes Sid forgot in the chaos of touring, they would all envelop their DJ in a group hug. A wild tornado of arms, legs and bone-crushing pressure, Sid at its dead center. The DJ tried to hug all of them at once and would yell in joy, as his bandmates let out a choir of happy birthdays. They all loved their hyperactive little devil of a DJ, no matter how much they denied it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions Welcome, as well as any grammar/spelling corrections! =]


	4. Hurting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and fluff.  
> I'm sorry, the original request was fro fluff but I was in an angsty mood.  
> Anyway, Sid is hurting.

The number of scars and bruises Sid Wilson had adorning his body was nearly uncountable. Paired with the old injuries still affecting him, he was a trainwreck by any doctor's standards. Did that stop him? No. Did that mean some nights were filled with excruciating pain and more crying than he cared to admit. Maybe. Tonight, much to his chagrin, was one of those nights. His legs were killing him, stabs of pain running up his nerves. Old bruises on his back and arms were acting up, a background noise of dull throbbing pain punctuated by the occasional jolt of fire from his legs. The fact he is currently laying on the floor of a tour bus didn’t help the situation. His bunk was too confined, felt like he was drowning. He was sprawled face down on the dirty floor of a tour bus, wasn’t even sure if he was sober, on one of the nights that always made him question if this band was all it was made up to be. The days after nights like this would always reinvigorate him, at least they had so far, but God Damn if this made him want to never look at a stage again. 

Whimpering as a sharp bolt of pain sprinted its way from his toes to the back of his eyes. Sid buried his face in his arms, an impromptu to pillow for the time being. He wasn’t sure where the rest of the band was, practicing, partying, or simply off at some interview, he wasn’t sure. He almost wished someone would come back to help him, but at the same moment, he thought of how pathetic they would think he was. He cringed at the comments they would make, he knew they didn’t mean to cut so deep, shooting the shit was part of the fun. But he couldn't help but imagine the mocking even as they helped him back to his bunk or got him ice for his legs. Sid wanted to melt into the muddy carpeted floor. 

Oh lord help him, the tour bus was being unlocked. He groaned, wanting more than ever to either disappear or have the strength left to drag himself back to his bunk and pull the privacy curtain closed. Though much to his dismay, he didn’t disappear and another surge of pain kept him exactly where he lay. 

“Sid? What are you doing?” It was Corey. A string of curses ran through Sid's head. Sid merely groaned at Corey’s question. Despite the protests of his body Sid Managed to push himself onto his side, back pressing against the side of one of the bed compartments, covering his face with his arms. The bus door clicked shut, only one set of footsteps approaching him. Well, at least he didn’t have to stand the whole band. The footsteps stopped next to his head. 

“What's wrong Sidney?” Corey’s voice was softer this time, still confused but much less harsh than Sid had anticipated. Sid let out a whimper as a cold hand reached out to touch his side. 

“Jesus fuck. You’re burning up, are you sick?” Corey sounded worried. Sid shrunk away from the touch, his body protesting, bruised shoulders pushed against the solid surface behind him. 

“N-Nah, I’ll b-e Fine.” He stuttered out, If he could have seen Corey’s face it would have shown a mix of worry and annoyance at his stubbornness. 

“Sid, You’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?” Corey used his cold hands to remove Sid’s weakened arms from his face. Sid screwed his eyes shut, refusing to look at the man who loomed above him. He felt a cool hand lay against his forehead. Then a heavy Sigh. 

“Sid.”

A groan.

“Sid.”

Another groan, this time accompanied by Sid trying to recover his face.

“Sidney.” Corey grabbed Sid’s wrists.

“I-I’m jus Hurtin’, be fine tomorro-w.” Corey sighed again. 

“It’s your Legs, yeah?” A long whine confirmed Corey’s guess. 

“I’ll get you some ice,” Corey let go of Sid’s wrists, standing up to rummage in the bus’s mini-fridge. A moment later returning with two packs of ice. They felt like hot coals against Sid’s skin, He hissed, clenching his jaw. But it was not too long before they became a comforting coolness, soothing the searing pain from his ankles. Sid let out a sigh of relief. Sid looked up at Corey, who was crouching above him. He had a soft expression on his face, a small smile. 

“Wanna get back in your bunk, or stay on the floor.” Sid looked a little confused, processing the question.

“Ca-an’t Mov-e?” Corey smiled a little wider.

“I can lift you, What? A foot and a half? Easy.”

Sid let out a small sound as Corey worked one of his arms under Sid’s hip and the other under his armpit. The still slightly dazed man, wrapping his arms around Corey’s neck. The ice fell off Sid’s ankles as Corey lifted him. Pain resurfaced, causing him to cry out through clenched teeth. Corey's slight smile dropped, as quickly and as carefully as he could, he placed his bandmate on his messy bunk. Blankets shoved haphazardly to the side, and an assortment of random nicknacks all askew. Sid still clutched at Corey when he was set down on his bunk. Finally letting go as Corey reached down to retrieve the ice packs, placing them back on Sid’s ankles. The dull background noise of the old bruises and scars came back now, sure the bunk was more comfortable than the floor, but the moving had inflamed them. Sid’s body tensed up, breathing faltered and hand grabbing at the sheets. He let out pained groans, Corey reacted quickly Moving his hands to either side of Sid’s face. 

“Breath, Buddy, Breeeeaathhh.” Corey moved his fingers over Sid’s face, giving him something to focus on. Sid slowly took in a breath, body untensing as the waves of pain subsided. For the first time that night he looked directly into Corey’s eyes, the eyes he looked into filled with worry. For him. Corey was still moving his fingers over Sid’s face, _it felt nice._

Shit. what would Corey think of him after tonight? Sure he was worried now, but what about tomorrow? When he realized Sid was doubled over from some leg pain and old bruises. Against every wish in Sid’s body, his throat let out a choked little sob. Tears welling up in his eyes. Fear knotting up in his stomach. Tears spilled down his face now, more sobs clawed their way out of his chest. Corey looked more worried than before, still holding Sid’s face. 

“I’m-m So-rryy, -m s-sorry, sor-ry, orr-y.” Between the painful sobs, Sid kept repeating his apologies. Becoming more and more incoherent. Corey Squeezed Sid’s face between his hands, trying to bring him back. 

“Sid, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Corey spoke in an affirmative tone, Sid now trying to twist out of the singer's grasp. 

“-Im b-einng we-eak,” Sid choked out. Hands coming to rest on top of Corey’s attempting to unsuccessfully pry them off. 

“No, no, nononono-Sidney, Don’t say that.” Sid cried harder now, grasping at Corey. 

“I A-AM!” Sid cried out, eyes open wide in desperation. Corey's eyes seemed like they were on fire. 

“Sid. You broke both your fucking ankles and finished an entire set. You’ve jumped off more things than I can count. You get hurt, but you keep going, Sid. You’re the opposite of weak.” Corey’s words reduced Sid to a sniveling mess, too tired to try and fight back against the man above him. Arms dropping to his sides. Chest still heaving. 

“I’m so proud of you, Sid.” Corey looked like he would cry now, wrapping his arms around Sid’s still stuttering chest.

“So fucking proud.” The tears were silent now, the both of them clutching at each other. 

“T-thank you, Cor-r,” Corey only squeezed tighter. 

**_“Of course.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions welcome =] hope you enjoyed


	5. Joey Aint Gonna Take it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey Hits a Bitch

Joey really did look different when he wasn’t wearing a baggy ill-fitting jumpsuit. Even when he had cut off the arms and legs to allow for better movement, he couldn’t well play the drums in platform boots and fishnets. Sure, he may have looked like a girl sometimes, with his long hair, and makeup. But Joey never took kindly to mocking and the like. They were in a bar somewhere. A few days on the road between shows, some of them had decided to leave the hotel they were in for the night and escape to some hole in the wall bar. Joey wasn’t in his full attire, just some simple makeup, intentionally torn fishnets, chunky boots, and a short black skirt. An overly large band t-shirt cut off at the waist made him look smaller, the entire outfit accented by a variety of chains, bracelets, and other shiny things. 

When walking to the bar, Sid had grabbed Joey’s wrist and inspected the bracelets there, Joey would have smacked anyone else who tried to do such a thing, but he knew the DJ didn’t mean any harm. Sid had told Joey the bracelets were pretty and he especially liked one that resembled a large leather cuff with small silver spikes. Joey had smiled and thanked the DJ, adding that he would gladly show Sid more of his collection when they found the time. Sid had grinned at the offer.

Now sitting at a grimy booth, Joey was crammed between Jim and Corey. Jim was quietly drinking jack daniels, while Corey had a loud and enthusiastic discussion with Shawn about God knows what. The singer's loud voice did earn them a few glares, but it’s not as if the Bar had been quiet before they had entered. Joey sighed, it felt nice to no longer be in the tour bus. Draining the last of his drink, Joey tapped Jim on the shoulder. Jim grumbled standing up from the booth to let Joey get to the bar, calling after Joey to get him another glass of Daniels. Joey threw up the finger at Jim as he made his way over to the bar. 

Joey could feel eyes on him. Cold stares that he knew often came with judging faces and mocking comments. About his hair, his clothes, the way he carried himself, anything and everything. He had gotten into quite a few fights with the girlfriends  _ or boyfriends _ because their partner had stared at his ass, as if it was his fault their partners gave a few to many looks at him. Leaning against the bar, waiting for the bartender to get the drinks. He felt a presence behind him. Narrowing his eyes, Joey turned. He was greeted by a man, taller than Joey with a greasy face and a beer-stained farms button down. The man was sneering at Joey, looking him up and down. Joey simply stared right back, icey eyes refusing to break contact. 

_ “Aren't you just a little  _ **_Whore_ ** _.” _ The man’s voice was filled with malice. Joey's eyes hardened, hand tightening into balled fists. Behind the man, a table full of similarly dressed men, obviously the man’s fellow goons shared snickers of laughter. The man’s face twisted into a spiteful smirk. 

_ “What  _ **_Princess_ ** _? Did I say something wrong?” _ Movement behind the man finally snapped Joey's attention, his bandmates were watching, silently. Even Corey had stopped talking, brows furrowed. Shawn was standing by the booth, looking ready to kill someone. Joey shot them all a glare, the man glanced at where Joey had looked. His smirk got even wider. 

_ “Oh look! Are those your  _ **_boyfriends?_ ** _ I bet They一”  _ The man’s mocking was cut short by Joey’s knuckles colliding with the side of his face. The rings on Joey’s fingers ripping the man’s skin. Joey may have been small, but if being in a band that regularly would fight each other for fun and growing up in a town where the only two things to do was do drugs and fight, had taught anything, it was how to throw a punch. And he didn’t just wear rings to look pretty, Joey knew those rings  _ hurt. _

The man stumbled back, clearly not expecting Joey to strike him. Hand coming up to clutch at the side of his face, blood spilling down his cheek. The man’s fellow goons had stood, seeing their friend hurt. Though none of them tried approaching Joey. Joey, now with a bloodied fist, watched the other man recover. He only noticed Shawn when his older bandmate laid a hand on his shoulder. 

_ “As much as I would like to watch you punch that guy's lights out, we need to leave before we start a full-on bar fight.” _ Shawn sounded almost as angry as Joey was. But he was right. None of them wanted to deal once again with the bitching of their management after the last time they got arrested. Joey growled, letting Shawn escort him towards the bar’s door. The entire bar was watching them dead quite. Joey made sure to hold his head high, tucking some of his long hair behind his ear.  _ Fuck all of them. _

Jim, Corey, and Sid quickly followed them, leaving a wad of probably too much cash on the table as they gave death glares to everyone as they exited. Joey was at least thankful for his bandmates, sure they mocked him as friends. But by  _ God, _ they would stand by him.  **_Fuck everyone else._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions welcome =]  
> tbh I just wanted joey to hit a bitch, because he's a fireball


	6. Jay and Corey [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jay and corey, don't read if you don't like explicit things. You have been warned.  
> obviously the only time or place this happened is in my dirty little mind.

Jay had really done it. He was drumming for a band he had chased after since he was, what? Eleven. The only downsides being the brutal workload and the punishing nature of being in a band like Slipknot. Though it came with challenges he didn’t anticipate. The biggest of those was the band's lead singer himself, Corey Motherfucking Taylor. Jay may have been taller than Corey, But the singer felt eight feet tall regardless. The way he carried himself with confidence and poise, Jay felt small next to him. Corey had noticed the way Jay acted, curling in on himself, head tilting down. Corey hadn’t known why guessing it was just the fact Jay was still relatively new to everything. Jay’s situation hadn’t been helped by the fact Corey had gotten into the habit of wrapping one of his arms around Jay’s waist. 

The first time this had happened it was at a rehearsal, Jay, fortunately, had his mask on, the singer's touch causing his face to flush bright red, His body tensing and his breathing picking up the pace. Corey had just smiled at the drummer, face covered in face paint, holding his mask in the other hand. Jay had a sneaking suspicion the singer was trying to make him flush at every opportunity, but he would smack himself every time that thought wormed itself into his conscious mind, trying to keep his overactive imagination at bay. 

It was after an especially tiring show, Jay was sitting in a green room, the top half of his jumpsuit unzipped and tied around his waist, a sweaty tank top underneath now exposed. Sitting on a gray threadbare couch, Jay let his body relax, arms resting in his lap. He let his mind wander. First thinking of trivial things, what songs he needed to practice, the improvements in his drumming, etc. etc. Then his mind made its way to Corey, All the times the singer had touched him, little touches. A hand around his waist, shoulder. An arm slung around his shoulders. Jay remembers all of them. One of the most treasured memories he had of the singer's touches was the time after an especially exhilarating performance the singer had grabbed the sides of Jay’s face while grinning so wide Jay thought his mouth would rip. The singer praised Jay for his work. The calloused hands gripping Jay’s cheeks made the drummer almost melt on the spot, He had settled into the singer's grasp. The touch hadn’t lasted too long, but it was still incredible for Jay. 

Jay’s brain took a small turn at that moment, imagining those same calloused hands, touching him other places. The singer humming soft praises again. Jay shook his head. No. He couldn’t get all riled up in a green room. Jay refused to let himself go that far. He squeezed his eyes closed, hands coming up to cover his face, leaning further back into the couch. He only registered the knocking on the door after a few seconds. Not even answering, before the door was pushed open.

 _“Jay?_ ” The focal point of his forbidden fantasies had shown up, and Jay wished he could quickly brush away the growing warmth in his lower abdomen. Corey poked his head through the half-open door. Corey's face was still covered in a fair amount of face paint, just as Jay’s was. The singer was dressed in his stage outfit, minus a few outer layers. Jay’s mind short-circuited when the singer quickly made his way towards him, collapsing on the couch next to him. Corey let out a deep groan as he stretched his arms above his head, popping his back. Jay blushed, oh fuck him, that sound hadn’t quelled the growing warmth in his abdomen. Jay inched away from the Singer, out of fear the man would ridicule him or be disgusted by the way Jay’s body was reacting. Corey noticed the drummer moving away from him, looking at Jay with a mock hurt expression. 

_“Awe, Baby, What did I do?”_ _Oh, unholy mother of fuck._ Jay was frozen. Jay wasn’t sure he had heard Corey right, did the singer just call him _‘baby’_? The singer crawled towards him with a grin on his face, Jay’s side was pressed against the arm of the couch. Corey grabbed at the drummer's legs, swinging the still frozen man so his back was now pressing against the arm of the couch. Jay’s fingers now digging into the fabric, Eyes wide at the singer's actions. The singer positioned himself between Jay’s now open legs. Shallow breaths escaped from Jay’s chest as Corey reached out and laid his hands against Jay’s face, gently petting the drummer's cheeks with his thumbs. 

_“You didn’t think I noticed the way you act around me, Baby? The way you blush every time I touch you?”_ Corey was whispering now. _“You didn’t think I knew?”_ Jay groaned, letting out a stammering breath at Corey’s words. His jaw slack, the singer's touches sending waves of wanting down his body. Corey’s thumb brushed against Jay’s lips, Jay still slightly dazed opened his mouth to accept the digit, Lightly sucking on the singer's thumb. Corey looked pleased with this, Jay continued, gently running his tongue along the rough skin. Jay closed his eyes, a little moan bubbling up from his throat. 

_“Shit . . . you’re pretty like that.”_ It was said in a breathy tone, one that made Jay let another moan bubble up, sucking a little harder. To his disappointment, Corey’s thumb was removed from Jay’s mouth. In its place was a warm set of lips that pressed on his own. Jay pressed back with need. Soft little pleading noises were swallowed by the other man. Arms wrapped around Jay's waist, his own hands grasping at the back of Corey’s shirt. Their bodies were firm against each other, chest to chest. Jay’s hips bucked unthinkingly against Corey’s. They broke their kiss, Jay moaning, and Corey panting to match. Eyes locked together, glazed in lust for each other. 

_“What do you want, baby?”_ Corey purred. 

_“I-i wan-t, uhnng一”_ Jay’s answer was cut off by Corey rolling his hips against Jay’s, The drummers back arching. Corey leaned in close to the drummer’s ear, “ _C’mon Tell_ **_meee_ ** _._ ” Jay gasped, choking on his words. 

_“I w-anna suck yo-ou ofF一!”_ Corey bit into the soft flesh of Jay’s neck, the drummer throwing his head back and Corey sucked on the sensitive flesh there. Jay made a mewling sound. Corey had broken the skin, if not only a bit, the singer's mouth filled with the metallic taste. Corey moved his hand from the drummer's waist, to weave his fingers into the drummer's hair. Pulling at the silky strands. 

_“You sure, sweetheart?”_ Corey growled, face still buried in Jay’s neck. 

_“Ye-eah,”_ Corey let out a deep rumbling sound, moving his both hands to interlace with Jay’s hair, clasping the back of his neck. Corey raised his head to look back at Jay, who was slowly but surely falling apart underneath his fingers. 

_“I want you on your knees, baby,”_ Jay’s mind hadn’t finished processing what Corey had said even as his body moved to fulfill the older man’s request. Haphazardly climbing off the couch, Corey moving out of his way, Jay fell onto his knees between Corey’s spread legs. Jay’s unfocused eyes staring up, mouth hanging open slightly as his hands came to rest on the singer's thighs. Meeting Corey's eyes, the drummer silently asked for permission. Corey nodded. Jay let out a little humming noise, moving to undo the singer’s fly. He could feel the heat of Corey’s arousal, if it was possible for Jay’s face to get redder it did. He undid the fly, choking back moans as he saw the bulge in the older man’s boxers. Finally, Jay pulled down the final layer of clothing. The singer's erection released from its confines, throbbing and dripping with arousal. Jay tentatively licked the tip, tasting a bit of saltiness. Corey let out a humming moan, tangling his hand in Jay’s hair. Jay, encouraged by Corey’s response, licked harder, then taking the tip into his mouth, running his tongue up the slit. Corey's hand tightened in Jay’s hair at this, letting out a moan, Corey’s other hand gripping white-knuckled at the couch. 

Jay moved his head down, taking more of Corey into his mouth. Pressing his tongue to the underside of the heavy arousal, Jay moaned. The vibrations simulating Corey even more. The singer's eyes shut, a few curses to fall from his lips. Jay continued to move down, his gag reflex nearly stopping him. He finally pressed his nose into the curly pubic hair at the base of Corey’s cock. Jay mewled, muffled as he was. He was fighting his gag reflex all the way. Throat convulsing. Jay moved his tongue back and forth the best he could. Corey was covering his mouth with his hand, his other still in Jay’s hair. The feeling of Jay’s warm mouth and throat made him crazy. He couldn’t help but roll his hips into the burning heat. Jay gagged, nostrils flaring. Quickly retreating, a wet sound as he popped off Corey’s dick. Jay's lips and chin were coated in drool and precum. Pretty eyes glazed over and cheeks still burning. Only coughing twice, Jay returned his mouth to the singer's erection. 

_“Fuuuucckk,_ **_Jaaayyyy!”_ ** The man above him was nearly pulling Jay’s hair out, but Jay didn’t care, quickly moving his head up and down. Sucking and moaning over the erection stretching his lips. Drool coating even more of his face, and Corey’s erection. Both Corey’s hands had moved to Jay’s head, in a lust-filled haze forcing the drummer's head still. Bucking and thrusting into the mewling man’s mouth, he felt Jay’s throat tighten in gags. He was so close, once final deep thrust into the drummer’s throat. Corey’s eyes rolled back. A string of creative curses spilled from his lips. Jay felt the ejaculation run down his throat, swallowing it as best he could. He was still sucking on Corey after the man had cum. Desperately mewling around the softening cock in his mouth, Jay's nose still buried in Corey’s pubic hair. 

Corey’s chest was heaving, his thighs trembling. Corey pulled at Jay’s hair, easing the man’s mouth off his cock. Jay was panting. Lips swollen red, dripping with a mix of droll and cum. His tongue hanging loosely out of his mouth. Glassy eyes clouded with sensuality. Corey leaned down and kissed Jay deeply, he could taste himself on Jay’s lips. Pulling away, Corey grinned.

 _“You’re so good, baby. You deserve a_ **_reward_ ** _.”_ Jay only whined in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no explanation only horny =]


	7. Good Ole Paulie [Part One]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul is good and sweet and i'm writing wholesome shit because fuck you im sad and i miss him nnnggghghghhghghghghghhg I'm not crying you are

Joey was late, the small drummer had lost track of time, and running in chunky leather boots was not easy. He had promised to meet Paul at an old half-dilapidated house a short walk from his home. Paul had said he wanted to show him something. Joey had gotten lost in his dresser though, deciding what outfit to wear taking him much too long. Taking his time putting everything together. A pair of black ripped tights paired with a knee-length dark red skirt, A band t-shirt cropped at his waist, and fingerless elbow-length gloves. The whole outfit accented by the silvery chains, accompanied by a black choker around Joey’s neck. 

Joey walked quickly when he finally spotted the abandoned house, reaching the overgrown field the house inhabited, he glanced around. It was late afternoon, the grass swayed in the breeze. He spied Paul standing on the porch, the tall teen smiled and waved at Joey, beckoning him forward. One of the teen’s hands was hidden behind his back. Joey cocking his head to the side as he approached. 

_“Somebody dressed nice,”_ Paul chuckled and Joey shot him a look.

 _“At least I have a fashion sense!”_ Joey gestured to Paul’s clothes. A hoodie, jeans and dirty work boots. Paul laughed again. Joey joined him on the porch, giggling a bit. Paul waved for Joey to follow him into the abandoned house.

 _“Sorry I’m late,”_ Joey said sheepishly, stepping over a pile of nail filled boards. Paul made a dismissive noise,

 _“Don't worry about it, I knew you would be. The Diva you are,”_ Paul snorted as Joey reached up to punch his shoulder. They were at the bottom of the old house's stairs. Paul went up first, warning Joey about the fourth step, which he said would collapse Whatever Paul had hidden behind his back when Joey had first arrived, had been shoved in his hoodie's front pocket. Joey was curious as to what it was Paul was hiding. 

The upstairs floorboards creaked loudly under every footstep, and more debris littered the floor. Paul pulled open a paint peeled door, standing on the side, bowing as Joey walked past. The room the door led too was in the back of the house, the roof and back had almost fully collapsed, opening the house up to a full view of the field surrounding it. The field stretched out, a few sparse trees sprinkled about, and a beautiful view of the sky. The late afternoon sun looked ready to settle behind the horizon. Joey approached the edge, where the floor simply fell away. Kicking some nails out of the way as he settled down a few feet from the edge. Admiring the view. 

_“I like it here,”_ Paul said, sitting next to Joey, both of them smiling as they stared into the sunset. The sky was a soft pink, tendrils of red and yellow slowly receding beneath the rolling hills. 

_“Me too.”_ Joey sighed happily. They watched the sun slowly disappear, the sky was now a dark reddish-purple. The dark of night was creeping in. Paul finally stood. They had been sitting so long both their legs had gone numb.

 _“C’mon we’d better leave before the ghosts show up,”_ Paul said in a mock scary voice. Joey giggled, Stretching out his legs before joining Paul. Joey made his way to the door when he heard Paul chuckle, Joey turned back to the man. 

_“I almost forgot. Here,”_ Paul pulled a set of drumsticks out of his hoodie pocket. _“I saw them, thought you needed a new pair.”_ Paul grinned as Joey rushed up to him, The smaller of the two making an excited squealing noise as he took the drum sticks, inspecting them, His favorite kind too. 

_“Thank you, Paulie!”_ Joey wrapped his arms around the bigger teen, burying his face in Paul’s chest. Squeezing the other boy in a tight hug. 

_“Of course, superball.”_ Joey made a small indignant sound at the nickname, tightening his grip. Paul's big arms wrapping around him. It was at that moment Joey realized how cold he was, Paul's embrace was warm, but when they broke the hug, Joey shivered. Paul noticed, raising an eyebrow before realizing the small teen's problem. Paul promptly pulled off his hoodie. Offering it to Joey. Joey's eyes widened, mumbling something about how Paul was too nice. But nonetheless pulling the overly large hoodie on, shoving the drumsticks in the pocket. Joey's small frame looked like it was drowning in fabric. Paul laughed. The hood was half over Joey’s face and the sleeves were much too long. 

“ _Let's get you home, superball.”_ Joey using one of the overly long sleeves to slap Paul's chest. But he was grinning too. 

**_Good Ole Paulie._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss you paulie <3
> 
> Suggestions welcome


	8. Good Ole Paulie [Part Two]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Paulie dye jim's hair, i still miss paulie, fuck

_ “What color did you want?” _

_ “Hmmm...Purple,”  _

Paul hummed in acknowledgment, he and Jim were currently in a small salon. The attendant behind the desk kept glancing at them, very obviously a bit concerned at the two teenage boys, who admittedly, did look a bit lost. 

_ “We’re going to have to buy bleach too” _

_ “Can we use Clorox of somethin?” _ Paul shot Jim a look of complete abject confusion. The taller teen looking back as if what he had said was completely reasonable. Paul signed, grabbing the box of purple dye as well as a bottle of hair bleach. Setting the two in front of the attendant who still looked a bit worried after hearing Jim’s comment about just using Clorox. Paul smiled at her, trying to convey that he wouldn't let his gangly friend pour bleach made to clean floors directly on his own scalp. Once Paul had paid, they left the store, Paul handing the plastic bag holding the bleach bottle to Jim, who was smiling happily. They made their way back to Jim's house. 

Squinting at the directions on the back of the dye box Paul narrowed his eyes, Jim peering over his shoulder. Jim had thrown on an old t-shirt as Paul set up the bathroom with all the things the box said they would need, but now they both simply stared at the directions. 

_ “Hmm… well, we might as well start. You’re bathrooms gonna be a mess when we’re done.” _ Jim shrugged, following Paul’s order and sitting down in a wooden chair he had drugged in earlier, facing the mirror his long legs crisscrossed. Paul wasn’t sure how he balanced like that. Pulling on the pair of gloves, Paul gave one last look at the directions before picking up the bottle of bleach and squeezing a bit into his gloved hand. Paul grinned as he looked to Jim, who looked only a bit nervous. 

Jim’s head was currently covered in plastic wrap. They may or may not have ripped the shower cap that came with the bleach, so they had improvised. Paul had laughed the entire time he was wrapping Jim’s bleach soaked scalp, Jim crossing his arms. Trying not to laugh at his reflection which he had finally admitted looked a bit ridiculous cover in plastic wrap. While they waited for the allotted time to pass, dictated by the directions, they had brought a radio into the bathroom, blasting whatever songs they could find on the channels. Jim's hair was slowly but surely losing its color under the bleach, turning a yellowish hue. The timer that had set finally rang and Paul held Jim’s head under the sink. The taller boy only looking like a  **_partially_ ** drowned rat when they had finished washing out all the bleach, but not at least a rat with now bleach blonde hair. 

Paul began to paint the purple dye into Jim’s hair as said teen flipped through a gossip magazine reading out the ridiculous titles and articles to them both. Causing Paul to once or twice drop the plastic brush he was using, the brush splattering on the tiled floor. Jim made a comment on how it looked as if they had violently killed Dino from the flintstones in his bathroom, causing Paul to almost drop the brush again while laughing hardily. 

Jim’s head was slathered in purple. He had helped Paul a bit with the front sections, while the other teen painted the back. So now both their hands were stained quite a bright purple. 

_ “Uhh...At least we’re matching,”  _ Paul smiled. __

_ “Now we really looked like we murdered Dino in cold blood,” _ They both burst out laughing again. Paul rewrapping the others head in, luckily, fresh plastic wrap and resetting the timer. Paul was sitting on the now purple-stained bathroom counter, he and Jim chatting away about some band or other. They both had stupid grins on their faces when Jim's eyes lit up. Nearly knocking over the chair he was sitting in, Jim dashed out of the room, yelling for Paul to stay there. The purple-headed teen returned grasping an old polaroid camera. He was grinning, holding the camera up to his face and looking around the bathroom through it. Paul raised his eyebrows.

_ “Where’d you find that?” _

_ “Was my mum’s, figured we might snap a few shots, y’know to memorialize this.” _ Jim gestured to his head, Paul looked amused, nodding. Jim holding the camera in his long arm, he slung the other around Paul’s shoulders. The other teen holding a hand up in the ‘rock on’ gesture. Using his other hand to not so subtly point at Jim’s head. The flash blinded them for a second, the camera making a variety of clicking sounds before dispensing a polaroid. Jim taking, shaking it to help it develop. 

Once the timer rang again, Jim jumped up, this time insisting that Paul not try to drown him, Paul doing his best impression of a supervillain laugh, which admittedly was quite good. The sink was purple when they once again finished. This time Jim did not look like he had just been interrogated by some government for information. His hair ended up being an uneven, but bright purple. 

_ “Your parents were gonna kill you when you cut your hair, what’ll they think now?” _ Jim laughed at Paul's comment, he was drying his head in a towel as Paul did his best to try and clean the purple off the sink, to no avail. 

_ “Mmm… They’ll get over it.” _

_ “Maybe, if they don't you can always sleep in my basement,” _ Paul gave Jim a warm smile. The taller of the two smiling back. Setting the towel down and wrapping Paul in a brief but affectionate hug, ruffling the shorter teens hair.

_ “Thank you, Paulie.” _

Jim still had that polaroid. The edges were torn, and it had an unidentified stain covering the bottom left corner, but he had kept it. The old days, when they ran around Des Moines, not a care in the world. Jim clutched the polaroid to his chest.

_ “Thank you, Paulie,” _ Jim’s shoulder shook a bit, letting out a shaky sigh.  **_“I miss you.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnnnnnngggggggggg i dont know anythign about dyeing hair


	9. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick and Joey wholesome, eggehhehehhe  
> I have a few more ideas for these two =]

On the surface, Mick and Joey were complete opposites. One a small, fireball of a man with an attitude, and the other a silent giant with a zero-tolerance for bullshit. Both of the teens were running with different crowds, the only thing they shared was a love for heavy metal and some mutual friends. 

When they had first met, thanks to their mutual friend Shawn, they hadn’t liked each other. They hadn’t really disliked each other either, it was more of a silent agreement that neither of them had much to talk about with the other. Even if they didn’t speak to each other at first, Mick was still intrigued by the small teen, who didn’t seem afraid to wear anything. Heck, the first time they’d met Joey had been wearing a black skirt with spider web designs, tall boots, and tights, making him look a bit like a girl which Mick had been confused by at first. Joey, who had obviously gotten into a fair amount of arguments and altercations with people who had a problem with the way he expressed himself, had narrowed his eyes to Mick, eyeing the taller teen up and down. Joey asked him in a defensive tone if ‘he had a problem’. Mick simply shook his head, no he didn’t have an issue with the way Joey dresses beyond initial confusion. Joey looked a bit less tense after that, tucking his hair behind his ear and introducing himself. 

_“MIIICCCKKKYYY!!”_ Waking up to screaming and the sound of someone trying to punch in his bedroom door wasn’t the most pleasant thing. Mick grumbled pulling the blankets on his bed over his head to try and dull the noise. 

_“C’mon Micky! If you don't let me in I WILL break your door down!”_ It was Joey. And Mick knew he would try, and maybe succeed, in taking down the door. Mick let out a grunt of acknowledgment and dragged himself out a bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swung the door open. Revealing a grinning Joey, who was doing his best to look up at him innocently. 

_“Who let you in?”_

_“Your mother. By the way, she said she was going to the store to get groceries.”_ Joey pushed past Mick. The taller of the two now remembering he wasn’t wearing a shirt, picked one which had been haphazardly thrown onto the floor amongst other clothes, he pulled the shirt on, yawning. Joey had made his way over to the bed, plopping down and crossing his legs. Mick glared at him, running a hand through his hair. 

_“What’dya want Jo?”_ Joey shot him another one of those innocent little smiles he gave when he was about to commit a crime. 

_“Nothin’, I was bored, and your house was the closest.”_ Mick knew that was a lie, he lived pretty far from Joey’s house. But he shrugged, as long as Joey didn’t force him to go shopping or try and put makeup on him again, Mick had no problems with Joey showing up unannounced. Mick made his way over to the radio he had, flipping through the channels until he found something that wasn't completely egregious. Glancing back at Joey, who was studying the posters Mick had up and his wall. Mick stood up, let out a yawn and stretching, his fingers brushing at the ceiling, he turned to Joey. Who was only half paying attention to him. 

_“I’m getting food, you want anything?”_ Joey hummed in response, shaking his head.

Mick narrowed his eyes at the smaller teen. _“Don’t destroy my room while I'm gone.”_ Joey let out a devious giggle as Mick left, leaving the door open so he could hear if Joey tried to rip down the ceiling fan or something. 

Mick was in the middle of making a bowl of cereal, having just retrieved the milk when he heard a high pitched squealing. It almost made him drop the half-empty container. Quickly moving back to his room, he peered inside. Joey was sitting on his bed, legs crisscrossed with a large fluffy black cat snuggled in his lap. The cat purring loudly as Joey made little happy sounds, petting the soft fur. 

He only noticed Mick when the other let out a heavy sigh. The tall teen had to admit the sight was adorable but he was so glad his mother wasn’t home to hear Joey squeal like a schoolgirl. 

_“You didn’t tell me you had a Cat!”_ Joey was trying his best not to scream the words at Mick, still petting the large creature. 

_“Yeah, Uhh, My mom got her from my aunt recently,”_ Joey smiled down at the furry animal, using both of his nimble hands to scratch the sides of the cat's face. 

_“Does she have a name?”_ Joey said, his attention now firmly back on the cat in his lap. 

“Uhh, No? Maybe, I don't remember. ” Joey's head snapped up, he looked genuinely offended on the cat's behalf.

 _“You don't know her name?!”_ Mick shrugged, he was now leaning against the door frame, watching the small teen gently pet the fluffy creature while giving him a death glare. Mick almost laughed at the display. Joey wrapping his hands around the cat, lifting it up to look in its large green eyes. 

_“I'm so sorry your owner is so mean to you, sweetheart!”_ Joey proclaimed in a voice people only use when talking to animals. The cat purring loudly in response. Joey planted a kiss on the cat's forehead before placing it back down into his lap. Mick was currently doubled over in laugher, holding onto the door frame for support. Joey was still scratching the fluffy creature, who had rolled onto its back, happily enjoying the attention. 

Mick was still doubled over, laughing his ass off, Joey finally giggled a bit too. 

_“You’re terrible.”_ Mick gave a big grin at that, he was glad Joey showed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried and i have more ideas fro these two =]


	10. Thighs [Explicit] - Sid and Chris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just short porn Chapter cuz I'm horny for Sid again, specifically because of the image below  
> Enjoy :]

[Image of Sid](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDPk6QIA-_k/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)

_^^ yes i know I'm going to hell =]_

* * *

“No, _you Fucking._ **_Don’t._ **”

Sid’s hand was firmly knotted in Chris’s long hair. The percussionist’s hands grasped weakly at the Dj’s thighs as he sputtered out muffled whimpers. Sid held the percussionist’s head down, pushing his bandmates face back where it was before. Chris’s face was flustered red, eyes swelling with tears and lips stretched, covered in drool. The DJ’s cock was firmly rooted down his throat, The man’s thighs wrapped around Chris’s head, trapping him even further. Chris felt like he was going to pass out, When the DJ finally wrenched his head up, Chris’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he gasped for air. Choked moans spilling from his lips as he tried desperately to breathe. The Dj’s legs were still over Chris’s shoulders, Chris let his head drift to one side, pressing his cheek against the warm flesh. He was still panting and he knew the pleasure of breathing freely would probably soon be stripped away again. Chris nuzzled the soft thigh, Sid’s fingers which were still tangled in his hair, tightened their grip, Chris pressing his face into the delicate skin. He nipped at it gently, Sid letting out a small mutter of approval, allowing Chris to continue his actions. 

Chris trailed kisses and small bites back down toward Sid’s groin. At the crux of Sid’s inner thigh, Chris bit a little harder, sucking on the sensitive skin there as Sid arched his back slightly and moaned through grit teeth. Letting out a small string of curses when Chris let go. The percussionist’s mouth moved back to Sid’s leaking arousal, letting Sid push his head back down to its base again. Chris hummed, his hands trailing from the Dj’s hips to the sides of his thighs, digging his fingers into the fat there. 

Sid’s hand that wasn't buried in Chris’s hair was stroking the side of the percussionist’s face, touches that Chris closed his eyes at, enjoying the gentleness. Quite the opposite of what the DJ typically was, But this break didn’t last too long. Another deep vibrational moan from Chris sparked the Dj back to life, Hips bucking deeper into the percussionist’s throat. Chris’s nose pressed into the Dj’s pubic hair, and his fingers gripped harder at the Dj’s thighs. They would probably leave bruises, though that was something the Dj was used to. Sid’s thighs trembled, locking around Chris’s head. Both Sid’s hands twisting into the percussionist’s long hair. Sid’s back arched, a long moan ripping from his throat. Muscles twitched and tensing, mouth falling open. The Dj’s ejaculant filled Chris's mouth, Chris greedily swallowing it, trying desperately to breathe through his nose. His head was still locked in place by Sid’s quivering thighs. When Sid’s muscles finally relaxed, his legs falling away, and hands no longer pulling at Chris’s hair, the percussionist eased himself off the Dj’s cock. Cum dribbling from the corner of his lips. 

Sid was grinning. Chris sat back between the Dj’s spread legs, he was still painfully hard. The Dj beckoning Chris forward, so Chris could lie next to the Dj, their legs still tangled together. Chris groaned, his erection brushing against the Dj’s thigh. Sid’s eyes lit up, an evil little smirk on his lips. The Dj moving so his thighs surrounded the percussionist’s arousal, capturing it between his legs. Chris almost lost it, the soft warmness made his jaw go slack, his hips bucking automatically. Sid looked gleeful, wrapping his skilled fingers around the back of Chris’s neck, thumbs caressing Chris’s slack jaw. Watching the percussionist’s face contort in pleasure, the percussionist continuing to buck and roll his hips.

Sid tensed up the muscles in his legs, finally pushing Chris over the edge. Chris’s ejaculant coated the inside of Sid’s thighs, sticky strands forming when he pulled away. The Dj took his finger, scooping up a bit of the mess and sticking his finger back in his own mouth. Chris was still recovering, his ears were ringing and his vision slightly blurry. But he still managed to process what the Dj had done, looking at him in a partly shocked sort of way, Sid only cackling in return. To be fair he had done much stranger things. 

Sid wrapped his arms around Chris’s waist, pressing their bodies together, Chris’s mess on Sid’s legs making an unpleasant squelching sound, though neither of them seemed to care. Chris’s face buried in Sid’s chest, his own arms encircling the Dj’s ribs. Before they both drifted off to the land of Nod, the Dj whispered one final thing;

 _“Gee Chrissy, I never knew you liked my thighs so much,”_ Even in Chris’s already half-asleep brain, he could feel his face flush again and Sid’s chest shook with a small giggle. He knew the Dj would use this new information to torture him, _and he couldn’t wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its short I'm sorry, I'm working on a lot of stuff lately =]


	11. Good Ole Paulie [Part Three]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and Cor, This isn't romantic, i mean you can read it that way, i just wrote it cuz good friendship yee
> 
> [ Warnings - Drinking, Self-harm (Cigarette Burns) ]

A loud crash temporality drowned out the TV, Paul jumping up in surprise. The noise’s origin was the front door of his apartment, the wood doing it’s best to retrain whatever was throwing its body against it. As Paul approached the door he could hear muttering, and what sounded like someone falling to the floor. When he looked through the peephole he could only see a leg, the rest of the person's body slumped against his door out of view. Paul gingerly opened the door a crack, trying to identify who had stumbled to his doorstep at this ungodly hour. 

“Paulie?” The voice was cracked and thick with liquor but it was unmistakably someone he knew. Paul sighed and pulled the door open further, though not opening it fully lest the man on his doorstep did fall and probably crack his skull open, knowing the drunk man’s luck. Paul managed to hold the man up by the shoulder while he swung the apartment door open all the way. The man’s head lulling back, eyes glazed and cloudy. 

“. . . Paulie,” The man muttered out Paul’s nickname again, a lopsided grin on his face. The drunk man’s arms tried to hug at one of Paul’s legs, though he failed, nearly hitting the door frame. Paul steadies the man again, a firm hand on his shoulder. With ease, he slid one of his arms under the man’s legs, the other wrapped under his back. Paul stood, carrying the man out of his doorway, kicking the door shut behind them. The man was curled up to Paul's chest, he still had a lopsided grin on his face, Jack Skellington hat pulled half over his eyes. The smaller man smelled like cigarettes and stale liquors, the smell surely seeping into Paul’s clothes as well. 

Paul finally set the man down in his bathroom counter, the man slumping down against the mirror behind him, his head lulling down.

“ _ Corey, _ ” The smaller man choked out an unintelligible response, not raising his head to look at Paul. The smaller man was dressed in old ratty jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, the right sleeve pulled all the way to his wrist, the cuff clenched in his hand. Paul reached out, but before he could touch Corey’s right arm the smaller man flinched away, pressing himself back into the mirror. 

“Cor, _ , ,Please _ .” Paul tried to meet the smaller man’s eyes. But Corey refused, letting out a sniffing sound. Paul signed, gently raising one of his hands up to the side of Corey’s face. Slowly raising the other man’s face up. The man’s eyes were red and puffy, Corey didn’t flinch away this time, but his shoulders shook as he met Paul’s eyes. Corey's left hand came to grasp at Paul’s, finger trembling as he let his face relax into the touch. 

“ _ What happened?”  _ Corey let out another one of those choked little sobs. Hand tightening around Paul’s wrist. Instead of speaking, Corey raised up his right arm to Paul. Releasing the smaller man’s face Paul gingerly held the arm in both hands, pulling up the sleeve as carefully as he could. Corey flinched as Paul stared at his now exposed arm. The flesh of his arm was burned, burning red and angry. Unmistakable. Cigarette burns, some ashes still ground into the raw flesh. 

“ ‘m sorry, Pauli-e,” Paul finally looked back up into Corey’s face, his own eyes welling with tears. He drew the smaller man into a hug, making sure to not disturb the injured arm. Clasping his large arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, Corey’s face buried into his chest. Paul's chest shook, matching Corey’s. 

“ ‘s okay, Cor, ‘s Okay.” Tears ran down Paul’s cheeks, Corey’s own tears staining Paul’s shirt. Corey let out sobs, clutching at Paul’s T-shirt. Simply letting himself cry. 

Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, though eventually Corey’s sobs died down, and Paul’s attention was once again drawn to his friend's injured arm. Slowly pulling away from Corey, the smaller man making a noise of sadness at the absence. Paul held Corey’s face in his hands. The smaller’s eye’s still red and cheeks covered in dried tears. 

“Let's take care of your arm, yeah?” Paul said, voice as soft as possible. Corey gave a small nod. Before Paul could pull away fully, Corey did his best to pull him back into a hug. 

_ “I love you, Paulie,”  _ Corey whispered into Paul's chest, voice cracked from his crying. Paul stroked the smaller man’s hair with his free hand. Corey tightened his half-hug around Paul. 

_ “I love you too, Cor.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, just dudes being dudes  
> also yeah i still miss Paulie and I wanted to write a bit of sad shit between him and Cor  
> sowwy uwu I'll write more requests as soon as i can


	12. Good Boy - Sid and Corey [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol sidney is a good boy, someone requested Corey and Sid smut so here yuz go  
> hope yuz enjoy =]

Corey was relaxing, reading a book. A rare thing honestly, he didn’t often relax and sit down to read anymore. Corey heard a small noise from behind his book. Ignoring it, he continued to read. Another noise, more desperate this time. Corey sighed, moving the book aside in one hand, Looking down. Sid was currently nestled at Corey’s legs, The Dj's whole body shaking as he grasped desperately at the fabric of Corey's pant leg. The Dj was stripped completely, pale skin contrasted with the dark fabric of Corey’s pants, the pink flush of the Dj’s face poorly hidden in his own curled form. Corey could tell at this point the Dj wasn't terribly aware of the sounds he was making, little gasps, and breathy moans. 

Corey taking pity on the Dj reached down to pet at the man’s hair, Sid pressing into the soft touch. A louder moan gurgling its way out of his chest. Sid’s chest, now exposed due to his straining up to Corey’s touch, was covered in bites and bruises. Some were from the Dj’s reckless behavior, others were from  _ different activities. _ The sensitive skin around the Dj’s chest and flushed pink nipples was littered with hickeys, an especially deep set of teeth marks ringed his left nipple. Sid’s hands were still clutching at Corey's pant legs, muttering little ‘please's’ as Corey petted the Dj’s head. Corey had almost forgotten his book by now, setting it down on the table adjacent to him and focusing back on his favorite little Devil. 

Sid’s face was stained with tears, large glimmering eyes looking up at Corey with reverence. Corey loved it when Sid looked like this, all cute little trembling and half-swallowed gasps looking up at Corey with utmost reverence. Corey patted his lap, Sid cocking his head to the side, brain too fucked out to process Corey’s action. Corey's mouth twitched into a little half-smile, one of his hand’s moving to cup Sid’s face. 

_ “Get up here, Sidney, _ ” Corey patted his thigh again, Sid’s eye lighting up finally understanding what the singer wanted. 

Scrambling up to position himself on Corey’s lap Sid straddled the singer's legs. One of Corey's hands was positioned on the side of Sid's narrow hips, the other stroking the side of the Dj’s ribs. Delicately running fingers all over the Dj’s sensitive skin. Sid bit down on his lip, a shiver running down his spine. Corey was running both his hands all over the Dj’s body now, down his spread thighs and back up again, purposefully avoiding the area that the Dj  _ really _ wanted him to touch. Sid’s hands were trembling, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. Trying his best not to cry out at Corey’s slow and deliberate torture. Sid’s eyes were screwed shut, a fact Corey took note of, A grin still on his face. Corey finally took mercy on the trembling man, hand’s fitting against Sid’s still bruised chest and squeezing his nipples between his fingers. Sid’s mouth fell open in a moan, his eyes flying open and hips bucking.

Corey continued to massage and roll Sid’s overstimulated pink buds between his fingers, savoring each reaction he got from the Dj, Sid’s eyes rolling into the back of his head under Corey’s motions. 

_ “You’re such a good boy, Sidney.”  _ Sid’s reaction to these words was always something Corey took great pleasure in witnessing. The Dj rolling his hips and letting out a choked moan, hands white-knuckled gripped on the arms of the chair. The whole of Dj’s body spanned and shuddered, Corey chuckled letting one his hands run down Sid’s abdomen, finally meeting the dripping arousal at the crux of Sid’s thighs. Corey snaked a hand around Sid’s back, pushing the Dj toward him, said Dj complying without a second thought. Corey was eye level with Sid’s chest, Which Corey took full advantage of, taking one of the Dj’s rosy buds into his mouth and sucking gently. It's not as if he had to do much to make Sid writhe and moan under his fingers and mouth. 

Corey was still teasingly stroking Sid’s cock, a chorus of gurgles escaping Sid’s throat as Corey stroked faster then slower again. Sid was on another planet by now, electricity arcing from his chest to his groin and then wherever Corey’s free hand decided to next explore. His head buzzed and his ears rang. The tight hot coil in his stomach which he had tried his best to contain was growing rapidly, and he knew soon he wouldn’t be able to hold back at all. 

“C-orey, c _ o-r, Co-re-ey, coo _ **_r-EY_ ** **!** ” Sid's voice pitched up, clutching at Corey’s head which was still sucking at Sid’s chest. Sid’s tongue was lulling out of his mouth, letting out a loud whine as Corey bit into his chest, adding to the older bite marks already present. Sid continued to slur out Corey’s name, his hips bucking and thrusting into Corey's hand. Corey let out a deep groan, as he pressed Sid closer to himself, letting the tattooed man’s hands tangle themselves in his hair. He could tell Sid was close, but he also knew that Sid would try as hard as he could not to let that coiled snake in his gut go without Corey’s permission. Letting go of Sid’s chest, Corey looked up at him. Sid’s face was contorted in concentration, eyes unfocused and tongue lulling to the side of his lips. His hair was damp with sweat, skin shining. 

_ “Oh Sidney, look how pretty you are,”  _ Sid let out another whine. _ “Such a good boy.”  _ Sid sounded like he was dying at Corey’s words, droll dribbling down his chin, legs quivering as they held him upright in Corey’s lap. Corey hummed, 

“ _ Sid, look at me,”  _ Sid’s eyes snapped to Corey’s on command, tears welling up in the corners. The Dj wasn’t going to last much longer, especially as Corey squeezed at the base of the Dj’s cock as he stared deeply into Sid’s eyes. Some of the Dj’s hair had fallen into his own face, Corey gently tucking it behind his ear for him. 

“ _ You’ve been such a good boy,”  _ Sid yelped as the hand of his cock increased it’s speed, “ _ Come for me _ ,  _ Sidney.”  _ Sid’s whole body tensed up at Corey’s command, finally letting the red hot coil in his stomach go. Ecaulant spilling from his cock as Corey continued to jack him off through his orgasm. Sid cried out Corey’s name as the singer bit hard at his neck, Sid’s whole body was on fire. Relief and bliss washed over him, as he rode out his orgasm, his body still twitching, hands knotted in Corey’s hair. Sid really was a mess now, eyes rolled into the back of his head, mouth hanging open with drool leaking down his chin, body wrapped with shivers. He could no longer sit up, falling into Corey, pushing them both into the back of the chair. Sid’s cum was smeared on his own stomach as well as Corey’s shirt. Thought for the moment Corey didn’t seem to care. 

Corey finally released Sid’s now soft cock, the Dj still whimpering quietly at even the smallest bit of friction. Their bodies were flush with each other, Sid not mustering the strength to move away and Corey making no move to push the Dj off. Corey laces his arms around the other man’s waist, Sid lopping his own arms around Corey’s neck and shoulders to reciprocate. Sid’s head settled on the singer’s shoulder, hair falling back into his relaxed face. 

_ “Am I really p-pretty?”  _ Sid mumbled it almost quite enough that Corey couldn’t hear it. 

_ “Yes, Sid, You're very pretty.”  _ Corey gave a light squeeze of reassurance to the Dj’s waist, the Dj giving a small sound of relief in return. There was only a fleeting thought in Corey's mind that their legs would both go numb if they stayed like this, but he wasn't going to disturb his half-asleep beauty. Corey accepted his fate, listening to Sid breathing slow, the Dj slipping into dreamland, And Corey smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhh yeah look another horny chapter  
> dont worry I'll write more wholesome stuff soon


	13. Congrats and a Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig is bestest boy and makes a cake

They all were celebrating, most of them drinking beer and partying. Craig decided he would celebrate differently. Sure, he didn’t really have much experience with baking or with intimacies of cake decorating, but he knew it would be destroyed in seconds once it got into the rest of the band’s hands. Someone's face would probably be shoved in it if he had to guess. Maybe Sid or Shawn would take a handful and paint a lopsided smiley face on the wall. Regardless, Craig still wanted to make the cake look presentable, he wanted it to look like he had put the effort in to celebrate the success of their newest album. 

_ Oh, Lord一  _ flour was everywhere. Craig hair now had a dusting of white power and the tip of his nose was the same. He hadn’t intended on looking like Frosty the  _ fucking _ Snowman this early into his baking escapade. Craig sighed as he shook his head, flour flying off. No matter, he would clean it up later. He had managed to search throughout the house's kitchen, finding everything he needed to make a multilayer cake. Finally adding the rest of the flour the recipe called for, he shot the bag of flour one of his infamous glares. The flour simply sat smugly on the contour. Craig gave the bag an “ _ I’m watching you _ ” hand gesture before returning to his work. He had dug three large cake pans out of the back of a cupboard, which he had cleaned out before smearing them with butter. He could have used non-stick spray but the bottle he had found of the stuff refused to open and he didn't want to deal with an impromptu pipe bomb. 

Craig stared at the house oven, it had far too many knobs and buttons for his liking. He squinted, carefully turning one of the large knobs that looked to control the temperature. The oven beeped, a few clicks and the thing looked to be heating up to the desired temperature, though it would take a bit. Craig smiled, a small victory! His head and shoulders were still coated in a light dusting of flour. 

In one large bowl, Craig had mixed all the dry ingredients, quite a large amount considering the fact he was making a cake to feed eight feral guys, nine if he included himself. Though he didn’t think he would be too inclined to eat if any his predictions about how the others would react ran true. He didn’t want to find a stray tooth in his slice of cake,  _ again.  _

He had to use precautions when cracking all the eggs, cracking them each individually into a smaller cup before dumping them into the bowl of other wet ingredients. Craig remembered all too vividly the time Shawn had stored some fertilized chicken eggs in the fridge, neglecting to tell anyone else. Jim’s girlish shriek one morning alerted them all to Shawn’s deeds. Jim’s appetite was spoiled for a few days, he still refused to eat eggs he didn’t buy himself, giving Shawn spite filled glare anytime the older man mentioned eggs or chickens. 

Luckily for Craig, none of the eggs he cracked were unwitting accomplices in Shawn’s sick experiments. Though he may have missed a few eggs shells bits in the mix, Oh well, they add extra texture. Craig reached up to grab a whisk, which was hanging on a metal rack above the stove. He started to mix the wet ingredients, being slightly more careful as they would be much harder to clean up if spilled. Craig was abo一

“HIYA CRAIG!!” Sid yelled as he kicked open the door of the kitchen. His voice was tinged with liquor. Craig spun around, grabbing a spatula off the counter, throwing it with surgical precision to collide with Sid’s head. Sid who was about to ask what Craig was doing squealed as more kitchen utensils were thrown in his direction. Sid haphazardly spun around, yelping when a measuring cup hit him in the shoulder as he ran away from the madman in the kitchen. Craig was poised to throw more items at whoever dared enter the kitchen next. Craig narrowed his eyes at the door, which was still blown open from Sid’s unorthodox entrance, he could tell somebody was hiding right behind the door frame. Selecting a spoon, Craig launched it at the doorway, a warning to whoever was hiding behind it. 

“o-Okay! Cool it,  _ cool it,  _ **_cool it!_ ** ” Hands stuck out from the side of the doorframe, surrendering to Craig. One of the hands pointed in Craig's general direction, “Don't throw anything!” Craig lowered the large wooden salad fork he was holding, still squinting suspiciously at the doorway. Joey’s head poked out from the doorway, long hair hanging down as he peered into the kitchen. He looked ready to hide back behind the doorway if Craig threw any more kitchenware. Joey cocked an eyebrow at Craig noticing the flour still dusting the sampler. 

“What’re doin’?” 

“Surprise.”

“Want me to keep everyone out?” Craig nodded, flashing the Drummer a small smile. As Joey spun on his heel, heading to tell the other’s to stay out of the kitchen unless they wanted to be assaulted by the sampler and his well-aimed kitchen instruments. Craig could hear more of his bandmates spilling into the house. A muffled scream from Sid and threatening shout from Mick made the sampler smile, he hoped they all would like his surprise. 

The oven had ended up working correctly, much to Craig's satisfaction. He had successfully gotten two of the three cakes out of the pans, the third ripping a bit. Ah well, he could cover it up with the frosting. He had decided making frosting was little out of his skill level, giving in and buying some earlier in the day. 

Craig stepped back grinning at his creation, a bit of frosting on his hands and face, joining the already present flour, but he had done it. And without losing any fingers! The cake was frosted, “congrats” writing in red frosting on top, a messy trim of red outlining the edges. It leaned a bit to the left, and the frosting was a little inconsistent in some places, but it didn't matter. Craig was still proud. He decided to clean the frosting and flour off himself the best he could before he tried to get all of them in the same room to celebrate. He could probably get Paul and Shawn to help him find everyone. He got most of the frosting off his hands and shook his head violently above the sink to get the flour of his hair and beard, though he was a bit dizzy after. 

Everyone was gathering in the living room, It had taken a bit of yelling from Shawn, as well as Mick and Paul carrying a few struggling bandmates from their rooms, but they all showed up. Jim slapped Chris’s shoulder, the long-haired man jolting up from his slumped position against the side of the couch. The percussionist's sleepy eyes stared angrily at the guitarist. 

Craig stepped into the room, signaling at Shawn to tell everyone to close their eyes. The ladder voicing Craig’s request, growling a threat at anyone who didn’t comply. Craig grabbed the cake, happily setting it down on the coffee table where he had already set out some paper plates and forks. He heard Sid squealed through his tattooed hands. Craig clapped, the rest of the band removed their hands or opened their eyes. Craig stood hands clasped in front of him, beaming at all of them. 

“Congratulations, guys.” 

Craig sat on the couch between Paul and Mick, the two tall men shielding him from wads of cake being thrown around the room. A fork bounced off of the side of Mick’s head, the guitarist scowling in the direction of whoever threw it. Craig chuckled, eating another bite of the cake. Shawn had made sure he got one of the slices before, as he predicted, half the band descended on the baked goods like hungry rats on ketamine. Craig looked a bit like a proud mother as they all shouted thanks and praise his way, a few of them enveloping him in a hug. He was glad his bandmates were happy with his surprise. He was drawn back to reality as he felt a heavy hand on one of his shoulders. Paul was looking down at him, a smile on his face. He was holding an empty plate in one hand, the other on Craig's shoulder. 

“The cake was delicious, good job Craig.” Paul blessed him with one of those smiles that would melt anyone's heart, pulling him into a side hug to boot. Craig was grinning, he felt another large hand pat him on the back, hearing Mick offer his thanks as well. Craig’s heart was happy. 

Paul let him go, setting his plate down on the table, as Craig turned to flash a smile at Mick. They all heard a loud yelp, then a quite large glob of the cake was thrown in the three’s direction, landing squarely into Craig’s face. Silence washed over the room, the sampler whipping the frosting from his eyes. An evil grin spread on his face. Fiery eyes looking at the source of his frosting filled face, Corey and Clown engaged in a scuffle, the two fighting, Sid was cheering the two on, throwing cake and forks into the mix. Standing near the scuffle, Joey looked on, disgruntled as he tried to bet frosting out of his hair. Jim was crouching next to a passed out Chris with a handful of cake in his hand, most of his attention the fight. 

The sampler stood patting both Paul and Mick's shoulders, the two of them looking ready to jump into the fight themselves. Craig rolled up his sleeves as he approached the two fighting men, neither noticing his approach. His frosting covered face was still fixed in an evil grin. It had been too long since he had put someone in a headlock.  _ This would be fun.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's sweet and i love him <<<333


	14. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wholsomemme =)))))

Waking up to a pounding headache and groggy mind was never a pleasant thing. Anyone who’s ever had a hangover could tell you that. But the mornings where 90% of the house woke up with a hangover there was some solace, typically the smell of bacon or some other wonderful breakfast smell would make even the worst of them drag themselves out of bed. Crawling to the kitchen before the others devoured all the food like hungry wolves. If someone was especially bad, too ill to get out of bed, head feeling as if they had been beaten mercilessly with one of Shawn’s metal baseball bats, the others would take pity. A tray filled with whatever breakfast was cooked that day would be brought to their room, placed on a side table or the floor. A reassuring pat on the shoulder before whoever delivered the meal left back to the kitchen to eat their own breakfast. Today was one of the days where seven of them had drunk themselves silly the night before. Groaning and moaning about their splitting headaches and sore bodies. 

There was an overly harsh knock on the door, he groaned, pulling his blankets over his head and screwing his eyes shut tighter. 

“Get up Cor, You’ll miss breakfast!” Joey’s voice was thick with his own hangover, wrapping his knuckles once again against Corey's bedroom door. The singer groaning loudly in response. 

_ “Fuck offff…”  _

“Fine, Fuckface, Paul made pancakes and I’m not missing it,” Joey hit the door one final time before yawning and stepping away from Corey’s door. Letting out a snort of laughter when he heard the distinctive _ thud  _ of Corey falling off his bed, followed by a small yelp of pain. Joey snickered one last time before scampering off the kitchen. 

Corey was still laid face down where he had fallen, blankets still half wrapped around him. Candy Floss hair settled around his head and shoulders in a mane of colors. The thick dust of the carpet couldn’t fully mask the smell of food wafting through the house, prompting Corey to roll over onto his back. Blanket now tangled around his legs, he sat up. Head throbbing. Corey blinked, eyes unblurring and focusing on the room around him. He removed himself from his fabric captor, struggling more than he usually would as his fingers refused to cooperate at first. 

He decided to pull on a large ratty t-shirt if only to save himself from anyone demanding he go put on more than just his boxer shorts. Corey groaned as he opened his door, the bright light of the hallway temporarily blinding him, bringing his hands up he shielding his eyes blinking furiously. He stumbled down the hallway, nearly running into a door that had been left swung open into the hallway. More head injuries wouldn’t be ideal at the moment. 

Corey nearly fell down the flight of stairs on his trek to the kitchen. Said kitchen humming with activity, smelling absolutely delicious. Corey finally made it to his goal, stumbling still only half awake to the kitchen table, collapsing into an empty seat. 

“Told ya he’d make it.” Corey didn’t bother looking up, Joey’s voice sounding from somewhere near him, he could hear Chris scoff. 

“I forgot how much he likes Paulie’s Pancakes,” Corey's forehead was pressed against the cold wood of the kitchen table, Someone’s hand fell on his shoulder. 

“C’mon, you’ll get hair in your food,” Corey grumbled as he pushed himself off the table, glaring in mock annoyance up at Paul, who only smiled and set down a plate of pancakes in front of him. Corey’s mock annoyance was gone, replaced with delight. He could hear Chris snort as he took a giant bite of pancake, a few bits falling out his mouth. Only throwing up the bird in the percussionist's general direction as a response. 

Corey had finished over half his pancakes before glancing up around the room. Joey and Chris were sitting near him, each with their own plate. Joey was sipping a large mug of coffee and Chris's hair was tied back in a high ponytail. The table was scattered with various plates and glass, some half-filled with orange juice, coffee, and what could either be vodka or water based on the attendance. There was a large plate of what was once bacon in the middle of the table, once filled with the cooked meat had clearly been demolished, with only a few slices remaining, which Corey promptly grabbed. 

Craig was sitting directly across from Corey, the silent man slumped over in his chair as if he was falling asleep again. Eyes slowly shutting and then popping open again in an effort not to fall asleep. Corey heard a loud yelp, snapping his head to look at whatever had made the noise, vision swaying slightly. He turned his head just in time to see Sid launch himself over a kitchen island, a pancake clutched in his jaws. The Dj darting around the kitchen, and finally hiding behind Jim, the tall man barely acknowledging him. Instead continuing to nurse a cup of coffee with way too much milk in it, while the Dj clung to one of his legs. Mick shouted a threat at the Dj, Sid giggling. Mick and Paul were standing by the stove, Paul chuckled as he turned back to cooking his signature pancakes. Mick sent a final glare the Dj’s way before returning to his own stove, where he was cooking an array of eggs and bacon. Corey continued to munch on his bacon, as he watched the Dj gnawing happily at his stolen pancake. Sid’s ability to recover from a hangover still impressed him. 

“Oh, Everyone before I forget, Shawn’s passed out in the downstairs bathroom. Don't bother him. I think he has his baseball bat,” Paul’s voice was warning, as he heard Joey giggle and whisper something to Chris. The bassist sending an accusing look the pairs way, Chris snorting again and Joey raising his hands slightingly in surrender. 

Corey had finished his meal, settling back in his chair, he grabbed a glass from the table. Chugging the contents, luckily for him, it turned out to be water. His head felt better now, less foggy. He mumbled thanks to Paul and Mick as the two came to sit down at the table as well, holding their own plates of breakfast. Craig stumbled out of his chair, sleepily making his way out to the living room to nap on one of the couches. Corey snickering a bit at the sleepy sampler, though he didn’t blame him. Sleeping again didn’t sound like the worst idea. He pushed his plate and glass away, clearing a space on the table for his head. Settling his arms under his face against the table. The background hum of Paul and Mick having a quiet conversation, Joey and Chris giggling about some scheme they were dreaming up, and Jim muttering quiet curses as he tried to shake the feral Dj off his leg, which the smaller man hung on to with abandon. Corey eyes lazily shut, his face fixed in a soft smile. He enjoyed the party nights, but mornings like this were always nice. Especially with pancakes! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna draw all this but i cant dra w


	15. Movie Night on the Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sid n joey being cute and also watching a movie n stuff =]  
> also sid in a green hoodie cuz i can

“Stop Moving!” A slap rang out followed by a shrill yelping sound.

“Ow! Jo, That huuurrrt !” Sid sounded more emotionally hurt than physically. Joey raised an eyebrow at him before returning to his work. Clutching the Dj’s tattooed hands on his own and carefully painting his nails with dark red polish. He was tempted to hit the Dj on the shoulder again as the tattooed hands twitched in his grasp, but decided against it. Painting a final glossy coat on the Dj’s pinkie, he let go of the tattooed digits. Sid immediately studied his now colored nails, and flashing the drummer a bright grin. Joey sighed. 

The Drummer had actually managed to pin down the Dj for long enough to put a smidge of eyeliner and some mascara on him, the whole time Sid squealing that Joey was trying to gouge his eyes out. The makeup had been revenge for stealing Joey’s drumsticks early in the day, the nail polish had actually been something Sid requested. Though the revenge didn’t really end up working as Sid started posing in the mirror afterwards and saying that he look _“Fucking Fantastic!”_

The two were sitting on the floor across from each other on the bus. It was one of the nights where they didn’t have to drive, but they didn’t have a hotel so they were stuck on the tour bus unless they wanted to go out drinking or partying. Typically Sid was the last person to stay on the bus when the opportunity to party reared its head. But Joey had dragged the Dj back, promising alcohol and something shiny if the Dj would stay. Sid happily agreed, grabbing the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels Joey had offered as payment. Joey watched in horror as Sid chugged the remaining liquor without a second thought. 

Sid giggled, stretching his arms out in front of his to further admire his nails. Sid had stolen one of Joey’s oversized light green hoodies. When Joey protested, Sid merely held the hoodie above his head to mock the shorter man, cackling when Joey tried to grab it back from him. Sid clambered on top of one of the bus's counters to slip the hoodie on before Joey could reach him. Only jumping down when the shorter man pointed out that the counter was bending slightly and Shawn would kill both of them if they broke anything. Joey folded his arms and did his best to look like a petulant child, but Sid was immune, Simply tapping the drummer on the nose before dragging the smaller man over to the couch. Still refusing to take off the green hoodie. 

“Let's watch something!” Sid summoned a DVD out of nowhere, Joey squinted at it. 

“Halloween? Haven't we watched that like 40 times already?”

“13 times,” Sid grinned, Joey raising an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“C’mon Jo, what else are we gonna do?” 

“Ugh. _.Fiiinee_ ,” Sid bounced happily over to the small television built into the Bus, fiddling with it as Joey collapsed onto the couch. The thing clicked a few times, wiring to life, Sid making a happy sound as he made his way back and flopped down next to Joey, swinging his legs up so they rested across Joey’s lap. Joey sending an annoyed glare his way, but Sid’s attention was on the TV, which had flickered to life playing the previews before the film started. Joey reached over and jerked the hoodie strings down, the hood absorbing Sid’s face. Joey cackled at the indigent squawk Sid made as he tried to get the hood open again. Joey was still laughing when Sid escaped his fabric prison and hushed him, the movie finally starting. 

They were about a third the way through when they heard voices approaching the bus, the door being unlocked. 

“What’re you Fuckers doin’?” Joey looked over to see Corey, who was supporting the weight of a very disheveled looking Jim. The singer didn’t look much better than the tall man, but at least he could stand on his own. 

“Watchin’ Halloween,” Joey mumbled, as Corey dragged Jim past them. 

“Hmmm, have fun, me n’ Jim here are going to bed, or do ya wanna watch the movie, Jimmy?” Jim made an Indistinct gurgling sound, Corey chuckling. Joey shouted goodnight at the two as they retreated to the sleeping areas, Sid choosing to ignore everything that was happening beyond the television screen. Another set of heavy footsteps made their way onto the bus, the door shutting as Mick stepped into view. The big man looked tired but nowhere near as wreaked, or as drunk as Corey or Jim looked. Mick eyeing the two men sitting on the couch, then studying the TV they were both intently staring at. Mick decided he wasn’t ready to go to bed yet. Joey and Sid moved over to make room for the man, the three of them squished on the couch. Joey curled up, leaning against Mick, the bigger man only grunting as he moved his arm so Joey could get more comfortable. Sid deciding to join in on the rearranging, laying against Joey, and throwing his legs over the arm of the couch, body twisted at an angle that would be uncomfortable to anyone but him. 

None of them noticed Craig stumbling into the bus until he collapsed against Mick's leg. Joey reaches down to gently Pat the sampler's head, getting a groan in response. Craig just continued to sit on the bus's floor, leaning against Mick's leg and the couch, eyes barely focused on the murder scene playing out on the small television. 

The movie was winding down now, the loud screams of the fake murders made Craig twitch in his sleep, the sampler drooling a bit on Mick's pant Leg. Mick, however, was too sleepy in his own right to care. Mick's arm, originally stretched over the back of the couch, was clutched to Sid’s chest. The tattooed Dj grabbing it sometime during the film's climax, and not letting go. Joey was still curled to Mick's side, head resting on the bigger man's chest, face partly buried in Mick's hair. Joey had fallen asleep shortly before the Dj, a few little yawns during the film indicating how sleepy he was getting. Sid wriggled into a more comfortable position, no longer really caring about the screen as the credits rolled and the DVD player shut itself off. Still clutching at Mick’s arm with one hand, wrapping his other arm around Joey's waist. Snuggling into the smaller man's ribs. 

Mick let his own eyes slowly close. He didn’t feel like being especially cruel and waking everyone else up just to get to his own bed. He heard everyone else’s shallow breathing around him, Sid mumble in his sleep, _something about never getting a shiny thing?_ He let himself relax. **_Hopefully, they weren't all too sore in the morning._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah yeha yeha yehayehayehayeha =] =]  
> please give me more ideas please


	16. Spilled Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its just me remembering that Spitroast and Faith shared an apartment for a while.  
> Not intended to be romantic but you can read it however you see fit

The apartment on 28th street was dirty, musty, and a bit messy, but it was home. Both the inhabitants of the apartment had passed out the couch the night before, well, was it still night or morning at 4 am? Oh well. They had been watching b-rate slasher movies, both losing it over the bad effect and acting. Mocking the weird fake moans and groans of the characters when a horrid fake sex scene came on, just for the killer to burst in and slash both sexed-up victims to pieces. 

Paul had fallen on the floor gasping for air when Corey had done an atrocious impression of one of the female actresses, putting on a high pitch squeal, “UUUGGHH HARDER DANNY!!” followed by a chorus of fake moans so shrill they could have made glass break. Corey devolved into raucous laughter as well when Paul face-planted into the carpet still holding his mostly full beer can and sounding like someone had just punched him in the gut. Rolling over Paul had tried to catch his breath, still wheezing a bit when Corey made another few mock sex noises while clapping his hands like a seal, making a face like one too. Paul chucked the still almost full can at Corey, who was too inebriated to avoid it, the beer colliding with his shoulder and promptly spilling all over him. Corey scrunched up his nose in the way drunk people do when they revert to expressing their emotions like children again. Electing to chuck his own beer can at Paul who was back on the floor laughing at Corey's facial expression. Unfortunately for Corey, his beer can was nearly empty, and only made a small spill on Paul's shirt when it bounced off his torso. Corey grumbled, 

“Mother-,  _ hic _ , Fucker!” Corey only scrunched up his nose more when Paul's laughter became louder, crossing his arms. Once Paul had calmed down he propped himself up on his elbows, looking up to the couch where a still slightly annoyed looking Corey sat. Paul grinned at him, Corey trying to look even more annoyed now just to spite the other man. 

“C’mon Cor, it was jus’ some beer, you’ll be fine,” Corey pouted. 

“Was my only clean shirt,” Paul stumbled his feet, mumbling before shuffling his way to his room to grab something. Corey, not even watching him, only drunkenly looking back at the TV which was still playing the b-rate slasher, someone was walking through the dark woods, clearly about to get murdered. Corey did acknowledge when he heard Paul come back. The other man laying a large long sleeve t-shirt over Corey’s head while drunkenly giggling, Corey making a squealing sound and wrenching the thing off. Corey tried to spin around and hit the other man but Paul moved away, making his way back around to sit on the other end of the couch still smiling as if he wasn't the reason Corey needed a new shirt. 

Corey struggled to get his beer-soaked shirt off, one arm trapped to his chest, finally looking at Paul for help. The bigger man chuckling before helping to pull the shirt off him. Ordering Corey to put his arms above his head so he could slip the large shirt onto him. Once the clean shirt was on Corey looked much happier, giving Paul a lopsided grin. 

They had gone back to watching the television, though this time with less drunken escapades. Corey had yawned a few times, nearly falling off the couch before Paul dragged him over, so Corey could lean against Paul’s side. They both were blinking groggily at the TV, Corey nearly falling asleep with every minute. Paul used the remote to lower the volume so it was little but a quiet hum in the background. 

“Wanna sleep here-” Paul yawned, “or the bed?” Corey only snuggling more into Paul’s side in response. Paul groaned, moving both of them to a more comfortable position. Paul now laid on the couch with Corey resting on top of him, head resting on Paul's chest. Paul had managed to shove a pillow under his own head so he wouldn't have terrible neck pain in the morning. Corey had fallen asleep by now, face buried in Paul’s chest, arms wrapped around the bassist’s ribs. Paul had a soft smile on his face as his own eyes fluttered shut. He probably won’t remember much in the morning, neither of them would. But this was nice for the time being. Paul let one of his arms fall off the couch, the other resting on Corey’s back. 

“G’night, Cor,” Corey seemed to snuggle a little more into Paul,  _ “Have good dreams.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its short but I tried to make it sweet, obviously no disrespect to Paulie, i love him with all my heart.   
> I miss you Paulie.   
> Anyway hope you enjoyed

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions Welcome, as well as any grammar/spelling corrections! =]


End file.
